


Heading South

by Treon



Category: White Collar
Genre: Case Fic, Friendship, Gen, Trust, White Collar Reverse Big Bang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-28
Updated: 2014-04-28
Packaged: 2018-01-21 03:17:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1535570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Treon/pseuds/Treon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-anklet story. Neal gets a job and ends up in more trouble than he'd planned</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prelude

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LeesaPerrie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeesaPerrie/gifts).



> Inspired by LeesaPerrie's artwork: http://archiveofourown.org/works/1535273

\--Friday, noon--

It had started off as an ordinary day. A regular Friday like any other, nothing really special. Peter had planned to be there when the Mortenson brothers were arrested, again. He'd planned on tackling the pile of reports on his desk, finishing off as many as he could so he could come in next week with a clean slate. He'd planned on leaving an hour early to catch a flight to DC and get an early start on his weekend with Elizabeth.

He hadn't planned on having to once again bail Neal out of trouble.

And yet here he was, driving to the airport, hoping to do just that. If he could.

Peter was a lot of things. He was disappointed, frustrated, depressed. He was stressed. Definitely stressed. He forced himself to loosen his grip on the steering wheel. But there was one thing he wasn't: surprised.

He had been steeling himself for this day from the moment he'd handed Neal his release papers. No matter how earnestly Neal had told him that this was it, that this time he was going to drop his life of crime, Peter feared the day when temptation would overtake the ex-con. He just hadn't figured it would happen so soon. Neal had been free for barely a couple of months.

And now he was back in jail.

It was like seeing a train wreck coming from miles away and still not being able to do anything to stop it.

The police had booked him for larceny, conspiracy, kidnapping, grand theft auto, and those were just the big ticket items. Neal, of course, had claimed he was innocent. Like he always did. It was all just a big misunderstanding. But the police were sure they had the right man. 'An airtight case', the officer had called it.

A passing car honked at him, swerving around him as it raced for the next light. Why not? Just add to his misery.

The local police had not been very cooperative when Peter called and introduced himself. No, they wouldn't divulge any information about their on-going investigation over the phone. No, they wouldn't send the case files over. No, they didn't really care that their suspect had been an FBI informant until just recently. If the FBI agent wanted to trouble himself and come have a look, they wouldn't stop him, but they didn't really need or want his help.

Peter ground his teeth as he hit another light. He wasn't even sure what he could do. Neal had gotten himself arrested in somebody else's jurisdiction.

Truth was, he didn't really have to go. Neal wasn't his responsibility anymore. He wasn't anybody's responsibility but his own.

Peter sighed to himself. A long drawn out sigh.

And yet here he was, driving to the airport.

 


	2. Chapter 1

\--The Previous Wednesday--

"You're going to love it!" Mozzie couldn't contain his excitement as he led Neal down the street.

"Really?" Neal had asked Mozzie if he could obtain a car for him for his newest job. But by now he was thinking it might have been a mistake. Mozzie's excitement was scary sometimes.

"Definitely!"

Neal's heart skipped a beat when Mozzie stopped in front of a pink Chevy convertible. He turned to look at Neal, waiting proudly for Neal's response. "What do you think?"

Neal stared dumbfounded at the car. "It's pink."

Mozzie ran a hand along the car's hood. "I know! Isn't she a beauty?"

Neal hesitated, unsure how to answer the question. But Mozzie wasn't really paying attention. "With this baby, you'll fit right in."

Neal considered the car. "Where?" The only place this car would fit in was in a Barbie world. Maybe.

"You said you were going to Miami." Mozzie beamed.

"That I did." Neal had yet to see the causal relationship between Miami and a pink car.

Mozzie handed Neal the keys. "Here you go."

Neal pocketed the proffered keys. He looked askance at the car "It's not stolen, is it?"

"Of course not!" Mozzie had the temerity to look insulted. "I borrowed it."

At Neal's pointed glare he raised his arms in innocence. "I  _really_  borrowed it, Neal. A friend owed me a favor, I called it in. Long as you return it in good condition, we're perfectly legal."

Neal wasn't sure about the Mozzie definitions of 'friend', 'favor' and 'legal', but figured it was wiser not to press him on the topic. He slowly walked around the car, taking in the view from all directions. It was all still pink.

"So..." Mozzie added after a long silence. "What's the job?"

Neal had been stalling on this point, as he could imagine Mozzie's response. But there was a limit to how long he could delay telling Mozzie about it. "It's a conference of security analysts."

"You're going to run a job on security analysts?" Mozzie looked impressed.

Neal considered leaving Mozzie to his misunderstanding. But then Mozzie would continue to press for details, and he'd just have to make them up. He was going for the straight life, and that entailed telling the truth. "I'm going to speak there." He caught Mozzie's look of shock. "What?"

"My hearing must be going, because I think you just said you're going to be speaking at a conference."

"I did."

"Ah." Mozzie nodded knowingly. "So it's  _that_  kind of job."

"Exactly."

Mozzie took off his glasses and shined them clean. "The Suit must be very proud of you."

"I haven't told Peter yet." At Mozzie's look, Neal continued. "I tell him about this, he'll either call people up, just to make sure I get a good reception, or even worse, show up himself. I'll tell him after I finish there."

Ever since Neal's release, Peter had tried to convince his former CI to continue working for the FBI. It was tempting: a steady paycheck, continuing to work with the people he knew, continue to run more-or-less legally sanctioned cons. But Neal also knew that these people, his friends, still saw him as a criminal. The only way to change that was to prove  _he_ could change, and the only way to do  _that_  was to make his way on his own.

Still, Peter kept trying to help out. Lining up possible jobs, talking to employers who might be willing to take on an ex-con. Maybe it was childish of Neal, but he didn't want any favors. He could make it on his own. With an honest living, too.

"So, when are we going?" Mozzie broke into his thoughts. Obviously he'd gotten over his disappointment rather quickly.

Neal gave him an indulgent grin. " _We_  are not going anywhere."

"But-"

"Moz, I need to do this on my own, okay?"

Neal had been expecting an argument, but to his surprise, Mozzie accepted that without comment. "Yeah. Sure. So, you plan on stopping anywhere on the way?"

"I thought I'd drive through DC, stop by Elizabeth. Maybe I could stay there for the night, then drive the rest the next morning."

Mozzie considered that for a moment. "They don't really have a guest-room there, but they do have a rather comfortable sofa."

Neal shrugged. "Long as I can get some sleep." But then he realized what Mozzie had just said. "You've been to the Burkes' house in DC?"

"I'm a man of the world."

"I see."

Mozzie shrugged. "It hurts me to see you like this."

"Like what?"

"Scrimping and saving."

"I'm not scrimping and saving."

"Really? Neal, you're living in a borrowed apartment, driving a borrowed car. You deserve to have the best in life. Not..." He waved a hand at the street in front of them, "this".

Neal didn't see what was wrong with  _this_. He liked June's place. And though he could do better for a car, for all of Mozzie's talk about scrimping and saving, Mozzie lived in a _storage container_.

"Look, if I want money, I can get it, okay? I just want to give this life a shot first."

Mozzie shook his head. "I could line you up a couple of easy jobs. No risk. Just to pad out your nest egg."

"I know." Neal appreciated his friend's concern, but he had promised Peter he could go straight. This was his chance to prove it wasn't an idle promise.

Mozzie sighed. "I don't understand why you need to drive down there. Couldn't they chip in for a plane ticket?"

Neal studiously avoided Mozzie's gaze.

"They  _did_  chip in for a ticket."

"Look, Moz, I thought I could make a road trip out of it. Last time I did a cross-country tour, I had the Feds and at least five police departments after me." Neal sighed nostalgically at the memory. "I thought this time I could take my time, see the countryside."

"There's a reason it's called fly-over country. There's nothing there to see."

"Maybe." Neal looked at Mozzie wryly. "Still, I get to have an all-expenses-paid weekend in Miami, all for doing a little razzle-dazzle and showing a bunch of security experts how much they don't know."

"So it's a con."

Neal shot him an amused look. "It's a job."

Mozzie shrugged. Potato, potahto.

 

*****

 

\--Thursday, evening--

The ride to DC was uneventful, but Neal enjoyed it. It had been a long time since he'd taken a drive where he could lean back and just enjoy it. The wind in his hair, the scenery passing by. He even enjoyed the double looks his car got as he thundered down the highway. He loved the attention.

Finding El's place wasn't that difficult, especially as Mozzie had given him exact instructions.

He parked his car down the street from the apartment house where the Burkes were renting.

Elizabeth opened the door, her face registering her surprise. For a moment, Neal was afraid he'd overdone it, but then she broke into a huge grin. "Neal!"

It had been ages since she'd last seen Neal. And here he was, on her doorstep. Looking for all the world as though they were still back in New York, and he was just popping by. Except that this time he was looking every bit the tourist: wearing a white suit topped with a straw hat.

"Surprise." Neal smiled back. As the moment lengthened, he ducked his head. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything..."

"Oh. Wow... No. I just... I wasn't..." Realizing she was blabbing, she cut herself off. "Please, come on in."

She closed the door behind him. "How have you been? I haven't seen you since..."

"My release." Neal interjected.

"Right."

El was in DC almost full-time now, busy busy busy at her new job. So far Peter had come down every other weekend. She simply didn't have the time to make the trip.

"I brought you a little souvenir from home." He produced a little snow globe with the Statue of Liberty. He'd picked it up in a 24/7 shop in New Jersey.

"Oh, wow!" Elizabeth accepted his proffered gift with a smile, shaking the globe around to get the snow going. "You know, this does remind me of home."

Neal shrugged innocently.

Elizabeth considered him for a moment. "Did Peter put you up to this?" Peter had promised an extra-special romantic weekend this time. "Just like we used to have," he'd said. An unexpected 'innocent' memento of New York was not Peter's style, but it certainly fit with the theme.

"Nope. I swear Peter is not involved."

Neal looked surprised at the question, but he was the consummate con-man. Elizabeth decided to take a wait-and-see approach on this. "I was just about to make some dinner. If you don't mind helping out..."

Neal grinned. "I'd love to."

Elizabeth led the way to the kitchen, Neal trailing behind her, using the opportunity to get the lay of the land. It was a much smaller place than the Burkes' townhouse in New York, but it was homey. Warm and comfortable.

She put the globe down on the counter and started taking out a cutting board and knives. Then she reached for the refrigerator to take out vegetables. "And how do you find civilian life?"

Neal grinned. "It took getting used to. But I'm thankful for every minute of it."

"I thought you'd fly away the minute you could. But Peter says you're still hanging around New York."

"It's a tough city to leave."

El smiled in agreement. "It is. So what brings you down to DC?" she continued, asking oh-so-nonchalantly.

  
Peter had been inviting Neal over for dinner every once in a while and calling at least once a week to check up on him. Especially, now that Peter couldn't check his anklet any more, after headline-grabbing thefts. It had rankled Neal at first, but he had realized that was the way things were. He'd have to prove himself before Peter stopped looking at him as a potential criminal.

Neal figured anything he told Elizabeth would get back to Peter. But he was here already, and it wouldn't do to start off his new honest life by lying about it.

"I got a job." He couldn't help catch the sudden concern in her eyes. "No, don't worry. It's a real job." He relished the ability to actually say it. "Real, legal."

Elizabeth divided up the vegetables and handed Neal a knife. "Doing what?"

"I was asked to speak at a conference down in Miami. As a security specialist."

"Wow. That's... " El broke off as she realized what Neal had just said. "Wait... so... what? You're driving down there?"

"Yep."

"Where are you staying?"

Neal waved that off. "I thought I'd drive straight through." Honestly, he'd considered it. For a brief five minutes, before he realized he could combine that with a stay-over at Elizabeth's.

"All night?"

"Yeah, by morning I'll be almost there."

"Nonsense." El threaded her arm through his. "Come on, stay here for the night. You'll have a much easier drive tomorrow morning."

"You're sure?"

"Of course I'm sure."

"Because if it's any trouble..."

"Neal, really, it's no trouble at all."

It wasn't a con if he'd been offered, right?

"If you don't mind sleeping on the couch," she pointed to the couch in question with the knife in her hand.

Neal glanced over at the couch. It looked more like Mozzie's size. "I think I'll manage."

Elizabeth smiled at Neal. It was amazing to see how much he'd changed since that first day he'd shown up at her house. And yet, he hadn't lost that spark that made everything he did look so shiny. "So you have a car now?"

Neal waved that away. He knew he'd never hear the end of it if Peter heard he'd been driving around in a pink car. "Oh, it's just a beat-up old thing."

Obviously a touchy subject. Elizabeth smoothly moved on to something else. "So, tell me more about what's been happening in New York. How's June?"

 

*****

 

Later, in her bedroom, Elizabeth picked up the phone to call Peter.

She glanced out the window. The neighborhood was a quiet one, the residents all well-to-do. None of the cars she could see were 'beaten up'.

Down the street she noticed a pink convertible. A couple of girls were standing nearby, giggling. It looked out of place in this neighborhood, everybody so yuppily solid, but somehow, she could see Neal pulling it off.

The phone was finally picked up on the other end by a tired-sounding Peter. "Hey."

"Hey, Hon." She could picture him by his desk, still at work. With Elizabeth in DC, he found he had less and less reason to go home at night. "Guess who showed up tonight."

"Hm?"

"Neal."

That certainly got his attention. "Neal is in DC?"

Elizabeth hesitated. So obviously Peter hadn't put Neal up to it. But she'd assumed that at least Peter would know, and Neal hadn't said anything. "He didn't tell you?"

"I-" Peter shook his head, even though he knew his wife couldn't see him. "No, he didn't."

"He's heading down to Miami for some kind of conference." She paused, trying to gauge her husband's response through the phone. "That's good, isn't it?"

"Yes, yes, it is." Peter mulled over the fact that Neal hadn't mentioned it. He hadn't spoken to Neal over the past week, but Neal must have known about this weeks in advance. Certainly last week, when they met. Why hadn't he said anything?

"I invited him to sleep over," El continued. "He'd planned on driving all night, so he could get there in the morning."

"That sounds like Neal."

Elizabeth didn't want to add that it sounded more like Peter. "Please tell me you're not spending another long night at the office."

"Only if you tell me you don't have stacks of papers on your desk right now."

Elizabeth smiled. "How about I promise not to take a look at my stacks if you'll go home now?"

"It's a deal." Peter laughed.

Elizabeth so much wished he was with her right now. "I'll pick you up tomorrow?"

Peter had made reservations at a new Italian bistro, a few blocks away from Elizabeth's apartment. They couldn't be in New York together, but that didn't mean they couldn't keep to their traditional date nights. "I'm looking forward to it."

 

*****

 

\--Friday, morning--

The sun was already climbing up the sky when Mozzie stirred and yawned. He stretched awake, blinking the last wisps of sleep away. A crooner was singing low on the radio.

His muscles always cramped up when he spent the night in his car and this time was no different. He was getting old.

He yawned again, getting his bearings. He was in DC, down the street from Mrs. Suit's apartment building. He rolled the window down and leaned out to look down the street. Neal's car had been easy to follow, but it wasn't there anymore. He must have decided to get an early start.

Not to worry. Mozzie had come prepared. Reaching into his bag, he pulled out a GPS monitor. He turned it on, waiting patiently as the little machine hummed to life and checked its connections. Mozzie had placed a small tracker under the Chevy's trunk, and now his monitor zoomed in on Neal's location. A little green dot showed him Neal was on the road, about half an hour's drive ahead of him.

Neal thought that Lady Luck loved him. Only Mozzie knew that it took lots of behind-the-scenes work to get lucky. He did not approve of Neal's currently chosen path in life, but he was damned if he was going to let Neal go at it alone.

Mozzie dropped the monitor on the passenger seat. As long as he kept a good distance away, Neal would never know he was behind him.

With a self-satisfied smirk, Mozzie put the car into drive.


	3. Chapter 2

\--Friday, morning--

Neal had woken up early, excited for a new day like he hadn't been in ages. Not for a normal, boring, everyday job, at least.

As soon as he left the Washington DC urban sprawl, he had turned off the main highway, and traffic was now light and sparse. The sun was shining in a perfectly blue sky, and Neal enjoyed every minute of it. He turned up the radio, humming as he drove along.

A few hours into his trip, he whizzed past a car standing by the side of the road. It was jacked-up, and a woman - a beautiful woman - was standing by it, staring at her car helplessly.

Neal came to a screeching stop. The joys of driving in the wilds of nowhere. He u-turned in the middle of the empty road and drove back down. "Hey! You need help?"

She glanced up at him, a tired smile on her lips. "I'm... it's just a flat tire. I'll figure it out."

Neal didn't need more urging than that. He came to a safe stop on the shoulder of the road and got out of the car. He rolled his sleeves up as he approached. "Here, let me help you."

But before he could do anything, he felt the cold, metallic barrel of a gun pressed against the back of his head.

"Whoa!" Neal automatically lifted his hands up. "Seriously?"

"Sorry, pal," a male voice behind him said. "We need a car."

The man gave Neal a quick pat down. "No gun?"

"Didn't think it was necessary."

The woman smiled at him apologetically as she checked his jacket pockets, removing his wallet, phone, car keys. Her partner meanwhile moved aside, holding the gun steady on Neal. "That's right. Just play nice, you won't be hurt."

"Look, whatever you need, I can help you, okay?"

"You're helping fine just the way you are." He came into Neal's view. Keeping him covered while his partner checked out the car.

Neal tried again. "You're not going to get far. If you put down the gun, I can-"

The man waved his gun at him. "You can what?"

"I've been on the run before. Trust me, they always catch you in the end."

The man smiled at him. "Yeah, well, they're not going to catch  _us_."

The woman honked at him, having already climbed into Neal's car. "Come on! No time for chit-chat!"

"Got to go!" The man waved his gun one last time before getting into the car too, then added, "Don't worry. I'm sure some good soul will stop by to help you."

And they drove off.

  
Neal finally put his hands down, then gave the tire of the couple's car a swift kick. Which hurt him more than it hurt the car.

He considered the car for a long moment before he suddenly realized what he had to do. He'd been out of practice too long, otherwise he'd have caught on much quicker. It was all a con. Their car was fine.

He quickly jacked the car down. Then he slipped into the driver's seat, throwing the jack carelessly into the backseat. The key wasn't in the ignition, and he checked in all the usual places for it before he gave up and reached down to pull out the wires from underneath the steering wheel. Except that they'd already been pulled out. His wasn't the first car that couple had stolen.

It took only a moment to hot-wire the car, and then he was off. They only had a five minute head-start, tops. He pressed the gas pedal down, feeling the car beneath him roar in response. He'd catch up with them.

 

*****

 

He didn't get far, though, when the red and blue lights of a police car appeared in his rear-view mirror.

"You've got to be kidding me," Neal mumbled under his breath. The thought occurred to him that he could try and outrun the police. But he quickly shook it off. Instead he slowed down to a stop by the side of the road.

He waited impatiently as the police car stopped behind him, its lights still flashing. A trooper came out and slowly walked over to Neal. He was decked out in a wide-brimmed hat and sunglasses which mirrored Neal's angelic expression back at him. The trooper looked at the car, then over at Neal.

"Officer, am I glad to see you. My car-"

The trooper put up a hand to stop the flow of words. "License and registration please, sir."

Neal's smile remained pasted on his face. His license was in his wallet, which was speeding further and further away with every passing second. "I'm... my car, it was stolen. I was stopped by this couple, and they stole my wallet, and my car..."

"You're driving without a license?" It was just like the police to stick to the wrong points.

From his vantage point, the officer looked into the car. Neal wasn't sure whether he caught sight of the wires sticking out from under the steering wheel, but he must have seen _something_ , because he froze for a second, then shot Neal a look. "Will you please get out of the car, sir?"

"What?"

"Out of the car, sir." The trooper's hand was firmly resting on his gun.

"Okay. Okay." Neal slowly opened the door and got out, keeping his hands in full sight, not wanting to spook the police guy. "Look, I'm telling you, my car was stolen. There were these two-"

"Hands on the roof of the vehicle."

"You..." Neal breathed out a laugh. This couldn't be happening. "What?"

A few feet away, the other trooper was reporting into his walkie-talkie. Neal caught a few words: 'suspect', 'car'.

"Hands on the roof," the trooper repeated.

"Okay, okay."

The policeman searched him while his partner checked the back. "Warren! He's got a guy tied up here." He turned back to the trunk. "Are you alright, sir?"

A guy in the back?! Neal hadn't checked the car before he jumped into it. "This isn't my car." He started turning toward the agents, but the trooper behind him pushed him roughly against the car.

"Please keep your hands on the roof, sir."

Neal wasn't about to argue. "Okay. Look, this isn't my car."

"Sure it ain't."

"I'm telling you-"

"You can tell us everything, down at the station." Neal's arms were pulled behind him as the trooper cuffed him. The other trooper was already on his walkie-talkie. "We've got a two-fifty-two on Route 301, suspect apprehended, we need EMTs at our position."

This couldn't be happening. "I'm on my way to a conference in Miami."

It was the first time the trooper cracked a grin. "Not anymore."

 

*****

 

Mozzie kept an eye on the tracker as he drove, making sure he wasn't getting too close to his target. Neal wasn't joking about taking in the country sights. He was taking the scenic route on the roads less traveled, and it wouldn't do for Neal to spot Mozzie driving behind him.

Mozzie thought it was boring. Neal could have saved himself (and Mozzie) the trouble, and taken a plane down to Miami. It would have taken a couple of hours and saved a day of driving. A day which Neal (and Mozzie) could have spent lounging by the pool, sipping daiquiris and enjoying the good life.

It would have also saved them both the dangers of driving out in the wilds. Mozzie passed a couple of police cars on the road.

Around Richmond, Neal turned west. As the car continued in a western trajectory, one thing became painfully clear: Neal was not heading toward Miami. For whatever reason, he'd sold Mozzie a story so he could go do his own thing.

Mozzie didn't take it personally. If Neal wanted to pretend he'd been reformed, that was fine with him. After four years under the oppressive thumb of the FBI, he could understand the man wanting to get out a bit. Mozzie would stick by him no matter what.

 

*****

  
Neal was getting bored.

He'd been put into an interrogation room, his left hand cuffed to a table, and then left to his own devices for what seemed like hours. He had no idea even how much time has passed. His phone had been stolen, and his watch taken away by the police.

He glanced at the wide mirror covering the wall besides him. For all he knew, he was being observed right now. Policemen watching his every move, discussing him, and whether he was guilty of anything. The trick was to look like you didn't have a care in the world. He was innocent. He hadn't done anything. In this was case it was even the actual truth.

But despite keeping a cool exterior, deep down Neal knew his situation right now was precarious. Even a normal guy would have trouble explaining what he was doing driving around in a stolen car with a guy tied up in the back.

The door opened, and a plainclothes police officer entered the room. Sleeves rolled up, the guy looked like he meant business. Neal pasted on a smile.

The officer put a flimsy paper cup filled with water in front of Neal.

Neal picked it up with his free hand. "So this is the southern hospitality I've heard so much about."

The officer remained impassive. "Mr. Caffrey, I'm Detective Tom Sanchez. I've been looking over your file..." He held it up in his hand. It was a thick one. The detective sat down across from Neal and started leafing through Neal's file. "You've got quite a rap sheet. Fraud, theft-"

"Alleged theft." Neal gave a small smile.

Sanchez shot Neal an unimpressed look. "I see you worked for the Feds."

"I was a CI for the White Collar division in New York for close to four years."

"Okay." Sanchez closed the file, throwing it down on the table. "Where are the diamonds?"

Neal hadn't expected that question. "What diamonds?"

"Don't play dumb with me."

"I'm not playing dumb." Neal could see he was losing the detective. "Look, that wasn't my car. I told the troopers already. I stopped for this couple, they stole my car-"

The detective shook his head. "You think I'm stupid."

"No, sir." Not to say that he thought the man sitting across from him was very smart. Not Peter smart, anyway.

"Good. So let's get one thing straight." He tapped the file in front of him with his index finger. "I've got enough right now to put you away for a long, long time." He smiled at Neal's discomfit. "That's right. You help me, I can talk to the DA, get you a good deal."

Neal tried again. "I  _am_  helping you. The people you're looking for are a couple, a man and a woman. Late 20s maybe."

"Your accomplices."

"What? No! They stole my car." This must have been the thousandth time Neal had repeated the story. "I already told the trooper who arrested me. It was a pink Chevy convertible. It should stand out like a sore thumb around here."

"Right. Chevy convertible." Sanchez pulled out a form and produced a pen from his shirt pocket. "You didn't give a license number."

"I don't remember it."

"The car is registered to you?"

Neal could have lied, but it wouldn't take much for the police to realize he didn't own a car. "No, it belongs to a friend."

"I see. And does this friend have a name?"

Neal swallowed, hard. Mozzie said he had borrowed it, but Neal had no idea from whom.

"Don't have a quick answer to that one, huh?" Sanchez smiled at him.

"I'm telling you, I was set up." He was only now starting to realize how much trouble he was in.

"Let me tell you what I see." The detective leaned forward. "I've got one thief in custody, and his female accomplice on the loose. You can start cooperating and tell me who she is."

"She's not my accomplice."

Sanchez snorted. "Do you really think she's worth it?"

Neal just shook his head, rolling his eyes. The guy just refused to listen to anything he had to say. "Look, I can sketch them both for you."

"And what do you expect me to do with that?"

"You want my help, I'm giving it to you."

"You think I haven't met your type before? You spin your stories, and then I run around looking for your phantom pink car and your phantom couple. Meanwhile your girlfriend gets away."

"She's not my girlfriend."

"What kind of welcome do you think an FBI snitch will get in jail?"

Neal looked up, sharply. "You can't do that."

"We don't take kindly to criminals who think they can come here and do as they please."

Neal had no idea how he'd gotten to this stage. "I'd like my phone call now, please."

"I thought you would." Sanchez leaned back in his chair, a satisfied smirk on his face. Any lawyer worth his salt would advise this guy to cooperate. This was going to be his easiest case in months.


	4. Chapter 3

 

\--Friday, afternoon—

The police station in Boydton, Virginia, was a small one, but it took Peter time to find the top boss' office. He showed his badge and identified himself, but still people weren't being very cooperative. He finally found it, a nameplate on the open door telling him this was indeed Sheriff Dave Wilson's office.

Peter knocked lightly till the man behind the desk looked up. "Yeah?"

"Agent Peter Burke. I'm here about Neal Caffrey."

"Burke. Right. From New York." Wilson didn't say it as if it were a compliment. He had already spoken to Burke twice on the phone, and the guy's office had later called at least three times. The Feds in New York obviously didn't have enough work on their hands. "You worked with Caffrey?"

"That's right, he was my CI," Peter nodded. "Look, he's got a criminal past. But he was going straight. Whatever this is, it must be a misunderstanding."

The sheriff gave Peter a pitying look. "Well, we've got your guy in the lineup right now. You're welcome to take a look-see." He pushed his chair away from his desk and got up.

Peter followed the sheriff into the lineup room. The room was tiny and full of police officers.

"That's there Detective Sanchez," Wilson nodded towards to a plainclothes detective. "He's lead on the case. And next to him," He nodded to a chubby looking guy. "Mr. Godfried, the victim."

Through the one way glass taking up most of one wall Peter could see that Neal was already there in the next room, standing together with four other young men, all facing front. All the men were wearing the local jail uniform: blue jeans and blue t-shirts.

The detective turned to Godfried. "Okay, focus on the men in front of you. Do you see your abductor here?"

The seconds ticked by as the victim stood and considered the men in front of him.

"Maybe number four." That was Neal. Peter groaned inwardly. "Or three." The man hesitated. "I'm not sure, I'm sorry. I only saw him with a mask, so I really only got a good look at his eyes."

"Which you said were blue."

"That's right."

"But you heard his voice, right?" the detective prompted.

"Right."

"What did he tell you?"

"He said..." Godfried closed his eyes, "He said: do what I say, you won't be hurt."

Sanchez nodded. "Number one, step forward and say, 'Do what I say, you won't be hurt.'"

One by one, the men in the lineup stepped forward and repeated the line. At number three, the victim screwed his face up in thought. "Tell him to do it again."

The detective passed on the order. "Again."

After the man repeated the line, the victim thought for a few minutes. "I don't know."

"Fine, number four, step forward and say 'Do what I say, you won't be hurt.'"

Neal stepped forward, looking for all the world like he was in an audition. Peter wished he'd tone it down a bit. "Do what I say. You won't be hurt."

"Again."

"Do what I say. You won't be hurt."

"Step back. Number five..."

Neal stepped back into the line. He didn't like where this was going. Obviously he was one of the top picks in this lineup.

After a few more moments of thought Godfried finally shook his head. "I'm sorry. He was wearing a mask."

"Don't worry." Sanchez put a hand on his shoulder. "It would have been good if you'd ID'd him, but we've got enough against our suspect as it is." With that he gave the order to wrap up the lineup.

"Detective!" Wilson caught Sanchez before he exited. "This is Agent Burke, came down here from New York."

Sanchez shot his boss a quick look before turning to Peter. The FBI man was sure he was going to complain to his boss later. "Yes. Agent Burke. We spoke on the phone. I didn't realize you intended to come down here personally."

Peter smiled politely. "I thought it would expedite matters."

"In what? This is not a Federal case."

Peter nodded. "I'm aware of that, but I think you've got the wrong man in custody."

Wilson interrupted before his man could respond. "How about you show Agent Burke what you've got."

He opened the door for Peter to pass through. Peter gave the one-way window one last look. Neal was already being led away. He turned back to Sanchez. "I'd appreciate that, Detective."

 

*****

 

The detective led him back the way he'd come, stopping by one of the desks scattered about. "Here. Have a seat." He pulled a visitor's chair over.

Peter sat down as Sanchez started tapping on his keyboard. "The thieves were after the Standler Diamonds. They'd been brought to a store in Alexandria to be reset."

"Who's the owner?"

"Uh..." Sanchez looked through his notes. "A Ms. Delia Washington, from Memphis. Said they were irreplaceable family heirlooms. In any case, the diamonds were insured at 15 million."

Peter read over his shoulder. "So why did she go all the way to Virginia?"

Sanchez wasn't very happy with all the Federal questions. "Godfried's an expert in setting antiques of this type." He found the file he was looking for and brought it up on the screen. "Here, watch this."

It was footage from a security camera, looking into what Peter assumed was the store that had been hit. Peter watched carefully as two figures appeared, passed by the camera, then disappeared from view. They were wearing all black, their faces hidden by ski-masks.

"They went straight for the safe. We've got another video of that. But hold on."

The video continued playing. Soon another man appeared, stopping as he looked around and realized things were very wrong. Then the black-suited figures reappeared. One pulled out a gun. The man put up his hands.

Sanchez chose that moment to pause the video. He pointed at the man on the screen. "That's Godfried, the owner. Says he sometimes has trouble sleeping and comes down to his shop to work. Thought he'd go over shipping forms or something. But when he came in last night, he surprised the thieves mid-robbery."

Peter squinted at the screen. He couldn't tell whether the black-suited thief was Neal or not. The guy was the right height, though. "Caffrey doesn't like guns."

"We don't always go the way we like. Besides, we don't know whether he was holding a real piece. What about the girl, does Caffrey have any known accomplices?"

"Nope." None that Peter cared to share at the moment.

Peter tried to shake away one nagging thought: If Neal had met a girl, that could explain why he didn't want to talk to Peter about his plans, and if anybody could lead Neal back into a life of crime, it was a girl.

Sanchez clicked the mouse again, letting the clip play to the end. After a few moments of standoff - the video had no sound - the thieves marched the owner out of the camera's view. "They knew exactly what they were after. Your guy here had the owner open the safe, took the diamonds, then tied him up and forced him into the trunk."

"Why didn't they shut him in the safe?"

The detective shrugged. "Who knows? Maybe they panicked, weren't thinking straight."

"Or maybe they wanted him found." Peter shook his head. "Neal's not the violent type. Never was."

"Well, the troopers found the victim tied up in the trunk, with your guy Caffrey at the wheel. Maybe you should ask  _him_  why he didn't push the victim into the safe."

Peter turned around. "Can I speak to him?"

As far as Sanchez was concerned, he had the evidence he needed to put the man away. Though he would have much preferred to find the loot and Caffrey's accomplice too.

"He's not cooperating. You need to explain to him that he's only making life harder for himself. He gives up his accomplice, he could get a good deal."

"Yeah." Peter wasn't sure what he'd tell Neal.

 

*****

  
Neal's phone call had caught him just as he was about to leave for the airport. He had an afternoon flight down to DC, and he couldn't wait.

He didn't recognize the number when he answered.  _"Burke."_

_"Hey, Peter."_

_"Neal! El said you dropped by."_

_"Yeah, Peter-"_

_"Said you were going to Miami. Neal, I wish-"_

_Neal cut into Peter's ramble. "Listen, Peter. I don't have a lot of time. I need your help."_

_"What's wrong?"_

_"I'm..." Neal took a deep breath. He hated having to make this call. "I didn't do anything, okay? You've got to believe me."_

_Peter gut tensed up. "Neal. What happened?"_

_There was no easy way to say it. "I've been arrested."_

_"God, Neal..." The disappointment in Peter's voice cut through Neal._

_"Peter, it's all a mistake, I swear. I know you can figure it out."_

_"Where are you?"_

_"Boydton, Virginia. They're going to arraign me Monday morning."_

_"Do you have a lawyer?"_

_"Not yet. Peter, I didn't do it."_

_"What didn't you do?"_

_"They think I robbed a jewelry store."_

_"Okay, Neal, calm down. I'll look into it, okay?"_

_"The guy handling the case is Detective Tom Sanchez."_

_"Sanchez." Peter repeated as he wrote it down. "I'll call him up. If this is some sort of mistake-"_

_"It is, Peter."_

_"I'll get to the bottom of it. Don't worry."_

_"Thanks, Peter."_

  
That was before Peter realized how much trouble Neal was in.

 

*****

 

Neal was sitting on the bunk in his holding cell, head in his hands. At the sound of footsteps, he looked up. A quick smile crossed his features when he saw who was coming. He got up, hands on the bars. "Peter!" There was definite relief in his voice. Peter had left it vague as to whether he would actually come down.

Peter didn't look relieved at all. He had planned to talk to Neal, get his side of the story, but instead all his worry and frustration erupted into one question: "Neal, what have you done?"

"Nothing. I was set up."

Sanchez had stopped a few feet away, leaning on the wall as he observed the two men.

Peter stopped in front of the cell, hands on his hips. "I saw the evidence, Neal."

"That's circumstantial."

"No, Neal. That's enough to put you away."

Neal's hands tightened on the cell bars. "I'm telling you, I was set up."

Peter exhaled in frustration. He glanced down the hallway, then back at Neal, and lowered his voice. "Neal, they're willing to make a deal. Maybe you should think about taking it."

Neal stepped back, surprised. "You think I did it."

Peter's voice was low, but intense. "What do you want me to think?"

"I didn't do it, Peter."

He sounded so earnest. "You want me to believe you just happened to get caught driving a car with a guy tied up in the back?"

"I told you I'm going straight, Peter. I didn't go back on my word."

Peter shook his head. It had taken him four hours to get here. "You realize this is out of my jurisdiction. I don't even know why I came down here."

Peter regretted it the moment the words left his lips. Neal looked like he'd been slapped. But it was too late to take them back.

"Peter, they said they're going to transfer me to the county jail, and mark me as a police snitch."

That made Peter pause. "They can't do that."

Neal just shrugged. He'd had enough experience to know that there were rules, and then there was reality.

"Okay, don't worry, I'll make sure you're put in protective custody." He hesitated, uncomfortable with this whole situation. It had been a while now since he last saw Neal through jail bars. "Is there anything else you need?"

What Neal needed was to get out of here. But it seemed like Peter had already made up his mind. "I didn't do it, Peter."

Peter sighed. One of his patented Peter sighs. "I'll review everything they've got and see what I can do. Okay?"

Neal nodded. It was not okay at all.

 

*****

 

Mozzie was keeping a healthy distance between himself and Neal. Whatever Neal was up to - and by now he was sure Neal was up to  _something_  - he didn't want to get spotted. But when the GPS signal stopped on the side of the highway, Mozzie decided to risk taking a look.

When he got closer, he realized the signal was now stationed outside a burger joint. A _burger_  joint. As much as Neal was cutting back on the finer things in life, Mozzie couldn't imagine he'd enter a place like this just to eat a greasy burger on a bun. He was obviously here for some other reason.

When he entered the parking lot, there was the pink corvette he'd managed to wrangle for Neal. A man and a woman were standing next to it, talking. Neal was nowhere in sight.

Mozzie found a parking spot from which he could observe the couple. Sliding down in his seat so he won't be seen, he could lip-read most of what they were saying.

  
_The woman was standing on the driver's side. "It's such a cool car."_

_"It will be much less cooler if the police catch us."_

_"Yeah, I know," she answered with a wistful look at the car._

_"They must already be on the lookout for this one."_

  
Why would the police be looking for anything? Mozzie fished out his phone and dialed Neal's number. It went straight to voicemail, where Neal's cheery voice informed him he should leave a message. He hung up. What the hell was going on here?

The two had meanwhile split up. The woman took out a map from her purse, and approached a family heading to eat. "Um, excuse me. I think I missed the last exit, and I don't know how to get back. Could you please help me?"

The father, who was being dragged forward by a little girl, smiled at her. "Sure."

As he pointed out on the map how she could turn around on the next interchange, she very neatly picked off his keys. Mozzie raised an eyebrow.

A few minutes later, after the family disappeared into the burger place, she got back to her partner, tossing him the keys. "Let's go."

He'd already taken out a couple of bags from the back.

A minute later they were in their new car, backing out of the parking lot.

Mozzie drummed his fingers on the wheel as he considered his options. He didn't really have many. Not if he wanted to find out what was going on. With a sigh, he quickly put the car into gear and hurried to follow them.

 


	5. Chapter 4

 

\--Friday, night--

Neal sat on his bunk in his jail cell, morosely considering his situation. This was not the way he'd thought he'd spend his weekend. Or the next ten to fifteen.

What really hurt was the fact that Peter didn't believe him.

Neal told himself that he shouldn't be surprised. He knew Peter. Peter was his friend, but he was also a Fed. What was it Peter had said to him? " _You're a criminal, you can't help yourself._ "

Well, Peter was a Fed, and he couldn't help himself either. He looked at the evidence, he looked at Neal, and he jumped to conclusions.

Neal shouldn't have been surprised. And yet, he was. He had one phone call and he'd called Peter. His friend.

He'd spent a long time staring at the floor of his prison cell back in Sing Sing. This one was just the same. He supposed all prisons were the same. A bland cement floor filled with spidery cracks. He traced one with his foot.

The decision slowly solidified: with Peter's help or without it, he was not going to spend more years of his life looking at floors like these.

 

*****

Following the couple wasn't as easy as following Neal (or Neal's car). Without a GPS tracker, Mozzie had to keep their car in sight at all times and yet keep unnoticed. He fell back every once in a while so they wouldn't notice him, but then had to catch up before the next turn off on the interstate.

They drove all the way to Memphis, entered the city and drove around for a bit, finally parking behind a large mall. From there Mozzie tailed them as they walked to a little motel not far away.

Mozzie gave them ten minutes to check in before he headed in after them.

The place was generally deserted. A young man was sitting behind the reception desk, head buried in a book.

Mozzie rang the little bell on the counter.

The man looked up, an automatic smile appearing on his lips. "Good evening, sir, how can I help you?" His name-tag identified him as 'Jay'.

Mozzie nodded, turning to take a good look around the lobby before he turned back to the receptionist. "I'm looking for friends of mine, they probably checked-in in the last hour. Guy's tall," Mozzie held out a hand above his head, "brown hair."

"Yeah." The receptionist bobbed his head. "They came in about fifteen minutes ago."

Mozzie produced a fifty, sliding it carefully across the counter. "I'd like to take a look at their registration card."

The receptionist chewed his lip for a few seconds, then grabbed the bill. A few minutes later Mozzie had a printout in his hands. The two had checked in for one night under the names "Billy Warren" and "Zoe Mann". Currently in room 205.

Mozzie considered his eavesdropping options. "Say, Jay, do you have room service?"

"Nope. But there's vending machines." His face brightened. "And we got free ice."

"Right." Free ice. Mozzie had better amenities in his car. "In that case, I'd like to take a room for the night."

*****

The motel compound consisted of several two-story buildings arranged in a square shape around a pool. Like the rest of the place, the pool had seen better days. Or at least, Mozzie hoped it had. Every room was fronted by a large window, overlooking the pool.

With Jay's help, Mozzie set up base in the room straight across from room 205. It was perfect for reconnaissance.

He pulled a chair right up to the window. The occupants of the room across from his had left the blinds closed, but the lights were on and their shapes threw shadows as they walked around. Through his binoculars, he could see the two move about inside.

Directing his laser microphone at their room, he could pick out their discussion.

"How did we mess this up?" He heard the woman say.

"Okay, Baby, listen, we didn't mess up," the man responded. "Things don't always go according to plan."

"It was supposed to be a simple hit. Nobody was supposed to get hurt."

"It  _was_  simple. And nobody  _really_  got hurt." After a slight pause he continued, rebuked. "Hey, we had no choice. Right?"

Whatever response she gave wasn't picked up by Mozzie.

"Torello's giving us a  _million_  each, Zoe.  _Two million bucks_. Tomorrow we hand these over, we get our money and we're done with it."

"What if that guy was right?"

"They're not gonna catch us, okay? Come here. After this, we head out West, you and me, they'll never know what hit them."

"We did pull it off, didn't we?"

"Baby, we can pull off anything."

Mozzie rolled his eyes.

Whatever these two were up to, it did not sound as if Neal was involved. He still hadn't managed to get in contact with Neal. He'd tried calling, but every time it went to voicemail. So where was he?

*****

 

A few hours later Peter was still sitting in the police station. Sheriff Wilson had - after a long discussion and some yelling - cleared out a desk for his use. Peter went over the files, trying to find something, anything, that he could use to get Neal out of this.

Peter's phone rang. It was El. "Hey, Hon," he answered.

"Hey." Just hearing her voice cheered Peter up. "How's it going? You sorted everything out?"

Peter hadn't had a chance to update her yet. He sighed. Long and deeply. "I wish."

"That bad?" Peter had given her the basics - Neal had been arrested for robbing a jewelry store. She'd assumed it was a misunderstanding that would be easily cleared up.

"El, he was caught in a car with a guy tied up in the back."

There was a long silence before El answered. "Wow."

"Yeah."

"I just can't imagine... Neal doing that. What did he say?"

"What he always says. That he was set up. That it wasn't him. That it wasn't his car."

"What kind of car was it?"

"Buick sedan."

"That's not the car he was driving yesterday."

"Neal showed you his car?"

"It was hard to miss. A pink convertible." Even now Elizabeth smiled to herself at the memory. "You should have seen it."

At least that part of Neal's story checked out. "Maybe he was preparing his alibi."

"You don't really believe that."

Peter wasn't sure what to say to that. He didn't want to believe it, but he knew Neal, and he knew how hard it was for him to stay on the straight and narrow. "I don't know what to believe."

"Oh, Honey."

"I should have kept more in touch with him. You know how tempting crime is for him. And after so many years, he's suddenly completely free to do what he wants... Nobody looking over his shoulder. I should have known it'd be too much for him."

"Peter, he spent the night here. When would he have had time to go rob a jewelry shop?"

"Are you sure he was there the whole night?"

Now it was El's turn to hesitate. Neal had been gone by the time she'd woken up. He'd left a note thanking her for hosting him and saying he had a long drive ahead of him. "I... Well, I suppose he was."

"But you didn't see him leaving."

"No."

"So he had time."

"If he'd wanted an alibi, wouldn't he have come back before I got up?"

"Maybe he didn't plan on having to abduct somebody."

Both El and Peter contemplated that for a silent moment, which was finally broken by El. "It's just... It doesn't sound like Neal."

"No, it doesn't."  
  
"He... Peter, you should have been here yesterday. He was so  _proud_  of his new job."

"So proud he didn't tell me about it." Peter had meant it to sound offhand, but didn't do a good job of it. Neal hadn't wanted him to know, and it still stung. "Anyway, I'll stay over tonight, see what I can come up with."

"Of course. If you can find a way to help Neal..."

"He'll need a big shovel to dig himself out of this hole."

"I'm sure you'll be there to help him."

Peter just sighed. He wanted to spend the weekend with his wife in DC, not in a police station in the middle of nowhere.

"You'll call me if there's any news?"

"Of course."

"Love you, Hon."

"Love you too."

Peter sighed again as he disconnected. He had a long night ahead of him.

 

*****

 

Mozzie waited until the lights were off in room 205. Then he gave them another half-hour to settle down. Taking his tools with him, he went back to investigate further.

The door was locked, but it was a flimsy motel door and didn't present much of an obstacle. He opened the door carefully, pausing for any sign of wakefulness. But he had nothing to worry about. Billy and Zoe were snoring soundly in bed.

Mozzie entered the room and turned on his flashlight, playing it around the room. On a little table by the window were a couple of grubby motel glasses and a few empty beer cans. The couple in question were spread out on the bed, mostly naked.

He started with the clothing strewn around, expertly riffling through their pockets. Their wallets contained nothing much of value, though their driver's licenses showed him that they hadn't bothered to register under aliases. Young and not very experienced.

As he turned around, his foot caught on the strap of a bag lying haphazardly on the floor. Arms thrashing wildly to try and avoid the fall, he caught hold of a lamp and brought it down with him. In the sudden silence, he was sure everybody in the motel would soon be up in arms.

But the silence stretched and stretched. Billy and Zoe continued snoring.

Seriously? Mozzie sometimes wondered why he even bothered. Scrabbling to his feet, he retrieved his flashlight from where it had fallen and continued going through the rest of the couple's belongings.

His musings stopped when he looked through a handbag on the nightstand. Inside, wrapped in cloth, were the most beautiful diamonds. Mozzie examined them by the light of his flashlight. They sparkled back at him.

He pocketed them and continued looking.

Inside the bag was another wallet. Mozzie flipped it open and froze at the sight of Neal's smiling face, embossed on a New York State driving license. How had these two gotten a hold of Neal's wallet? And what had they done with Neal?

As much as he hated doing so, it was time to call in the cavalry.

 

*****

 

The ringtone of his phone startled Peter awake. He blinked in the darkness for a minute, struggling to get his bearings. That's right. He was in a ratty motel room, somewhere in the middle of nowhere. Here to save his former partner from a lifetime in prison.

He took a look at the bedside clock as he answered the phone. It was 2:05. "Burke," he croaked.

"Evening, Suit." Mozzie was back in his room, peering through his window toward the room of the young thieves.

"Mozzie?" All sense of decorum left Peter at the sound of Mozzie's voice. "Do you have  _any_ idea what  _time_  it is?!"

"Of course." Mozzie had the decency to sound puzzled. "But that's not the reason I called." He took a deep breath, about to announce the bad news. "I think Neal may be in serious trouble. I just found-"

Peter couldn't believe Mozzie. "Of  _course_  he's in trouble! He got himself arrested." And then, too late, his mind - still struggling to wake up - caught up with him. He should have let Mozzie finish his sentence. "What did you find?"

"Arrested?" Mozzie ignored the question, relieved that Neal wasn't six feet under. "What was he arrested for?"

Damn, damn, damn. Now he'd never know. "A diamond heist."

"A diamond heist," Mozzie repeated. The pieces were falling into place. "So, uh... was it a good one?"

"For the love of... Please tell me Neal wasn't planning a job." It was a plea.

"Neal can never do anything right by you, can he? This is all your fault."

"How is it my fault?"

Mozzie bit his lip, knowing he couldn't tell the Suit the real answer. If Neal had just  _listened_ to Mozzie, if he had taken Mozzie's offer of an easy score, instead of trying to show the Feds that he was reformed, he wouldn't be in jail right now.

"Okay," Peter added after the pause lasted long enough for him to realize he was not going to get an answer. "I want to help Neal. I need to know what he was doing in Virginia."

"Well,  _obviously_  he was not there to commit a robbery!"

"What was he doing, then? Do you know where he was going?"

Mozzie, as usual, deflected with his own question. "Why was he arrested?"

Peter took a deep breath. "Neal was arrested by Virginia State Troopers for speeding. They found a guy tied up in the back, abducted during a diamond heist. It's all circumstantial evidence but with Neal's history, it's enough to put him away."

Mozzie stayed silent for a long minute. He had a lot to think about.

Peter rubbed his face with his free hand. He wasn't up to these types of conversations when he was fully awake, much less now. "Mozzie? Your turn. Where was Neal headed?"

"Neal was on his way to a security analysts' conference in Miami."

"You're joking." Peter tried to wrap his brain around that one.

Mozzie really wished he was. "Do I  _sound_ like I'm joking?"

"Okay. Do you know what car Neal was driving?"

"Yes."

Finally some good news. "Give me the vehicle's description. We find the car, we'll find these guys."

As if. "I'm many steps ahead of you, Suit."

"You know where it is?"

"Even better than that. Check out Torello."

"What's Torello?"

"It's not a  _what_ , it's a  _who_. He's the guy who ordered the job." Mozzie was quickly getting frustrated. "Are you writing this down?"

"How...? Why...?" Peter cut himself off. "No, I don't want to know. Hold on." He really didn't. He also couldn't believe his luck. He pulled himself out of bed and got his laptop. "You've got a first name?" he asked, after starting to enter the name.

"You're the Suit, Suit. Do I need to do  _everything_?"

Peter sighed. "Wait..." A few responses started flashing on his screen. "There's a mobster in Memphis by that name on our watch list."

"Good, so you can pick him up."

"Pick him up for what?"

"He'll be waiting for the diamond drop."

"How do you know  _that_?"

"I've got to go."

"No! Moz, listen-" But Mozzie had already hung up. Peter almost crumpled the phone in his hand.

On his end, Mozzie took out the diamonds and held them up, letting them reflect the light. He could put them back and let the thieves walk into an FBI trap. He was sure that's what Neal would do, after his years of Federal indoctrination. But if he played his cards right... Well, if he played them right, he'd get everything. Neal would be set free  _and_ he'd get that easy score he'd been planning all along. It all depended on the Suit doing his part in a plan he wasn't aware of.

Mozzie never understood why Neal trusted the Suit so implicitly, but he knew the Suit was smart. He would figure it out. Lady Luck couldn't ask for a better helper.

 


	6. Chapter 5

 

\--Saturday, morning--

Mozzie waited till morning before he headed back to room 205.

He had to knock several times before a drowsy Billy answered the door. He looked at the visitor bleary-eyed. "Yeah?"

"I've got an offer for you," he said brightly.  
  
Billy didn't even bother answering. He slammed the door in Mozzie's face. Inside Moz heard Zoe ask, "Who was it?" only to receive a non-audible response.

Mozzie wasn't going to give up so easily. He earnestly knocked again. And again, and again, and again, until a by-now-quite-mad Billy opened the door. "Get out of here before I call-"

Mozzie held up the bag of diamonds.

Billy's eyes went wide and he made a grab for the bag, but Mozzie had been expecting the move and easily side-stepped the attempt.

"Who are you?"

"I told you, I've got an offer for you. Now, do you want to have this discussion out here?"

Billy looked left and right, then wordlessly moved aside to allow Mozzie to enter.

"Billy, who is it?" Zoe stopped when she saw Mozzie enter.

"The name's Dante." He gave a little bow in her direction, then threw Billy the diamonds.

Zoe frowned. "Like the pasta?"

God. Mozzie bit back the cynical response on the tip of his tongue. He wasn't here to teach these kids about the finer points of Italian cooking.

And a second later Mozzie was staring into Billy's gun. He looked at the younger man in complete confusion. "Are you  _nuts_?"

" _I'm_  nuts?"

"Billy, what's going on?" Zoe looked between the two men.

"He stole our diamonds."

"I gave them back."

"That's not the point!" Billy took his eyes off his weird guest for a few seconds to glance out through the blinds. "You didn't come here alone, did you?"

"Look, I'd put that away if I were you."

"Really? Why would I do that?"

"Because stunts like these are going to get you thrown into jail. That's why." Mozzie threw his hands up in frustration. These kids really had a lot to learn. "Because the Feds are closing in on Torello, and they'll be waiting for you when you show up with the diamonds."

A well-timed police siren off in the distance accentuated his point.

"What do you know about Torello?" Zoe asked.

"I know that those diamonds you stole are worth ten million at least. What's your cut?"

Billy and Zoe exchanged a look.

"Right," Mozzie continued, lecturing his new students. "Now, how long do you think it will be before he decides to save his own skin by throwing you to the wolves?"

Billy put down his gun. "We need to get out of here."

"First things first, you need to get new aliases. Running around with your real names is not going to cut it."

"How do you know-"

Mozzie held up a hand, cutting them off. "I know a guy who can set you up with everything you need." He counted it off on his fingers. "Passports, driver's licenses, birth certificates if you need 'em. The whole deal."

"Wait." Billy didn't seem convinced yet. "What are  _you_  getting out of it?"

"Opportunities multiply as they are seized."

They stared at him. "Meaning?"

"Let's say my partner-in-crime is going through a mid-life crisis, and I'm open to check out new prospects." Mozzie smiled at them, pleased with himself, then gestured toward the door. "My car is outside."

*****

  
It was quite late when Peter showed up at the police station. After Mozzie's call he had stayed up, running Torello through the databases. He'd found quite a lot about him. A Memphis crime boss, the local bureau had been keeping tabs on him for years, hauling him to court several times. Sometimes witnesses had disappeared, sometimes evidence was misplaced, and in every case he'd gotten off scot-free

Reading through recent surveillance reports, Peter finally fell asleep at the little table that served him as a desk. He woke up with a start long after his alarm clock gave up even trying.

When he arrived at the police station for a new day of reviewing case files, it was hopping with activity. Maybe 'going nuts' would have been a better description.

He made his way through policemen rushing to and fro, finally catching one by the arm. "Hey. What happened?"

"A prisoner escaped."

Peter swallowed hard. That didn't sound good. "You wouldn't happen to know..." He trailed off as the guy shrugged him off and hurried away. "Great."

He made his way straight to Wilson's office. The Sheriff met him by the door, on his way out. "I don't have time for you now, Agent Burke."

"What happened?"

"What happened? What  _happened_?" Wilson looked apoplectic. "What happened is that your guy took off."

"He broke out of jail?" Peter was surprised. Running was the wrong way to prove your innocence. Neal knew that.

A man stuck his head around Peter. "Sir, the marshals say they're sending out a team. They'll set up a mobile post on-site."

Wilson nodded, then pushed past Peter.

Peter hurried after him. "How did he run?"

"Managed to jump out of a squad car," Wilson threw out. "Caused a pile-up down at the freeway."

Peter frowned. He'd understood Neal was going to stay put till Monday. "What was he doing in a squad car?"

Wilson turned on Peter. "You know what? I don't answer to you, Burke."

With a criminal on the loose, Peter supposed that the sheriff had quite a few people to answer to. But Peter also realized he wasn't going to get far by starting to argue. "I know Caffrey. I've tracked him for years. I can help you catch him."

Wilson considered Peter for a short moment, then nodded. Expediency trumping his wish to kick the FBI agent back home. "Fine. Where would he go from here?"

"Where was he when he ran?"

A moment later Peter was standing by yet another desk, this one with a map spread out across it. Wilson jabbed a finger at a line of highway. "He jumped here. They ran into some traffic, the cruiser slowed down, and he jumped right out of the car."

"Where were they going?"

"Nowhere." This was Sanchez who spoke up. "I thought a little ride might convince him to cooperate."

"A little..." Peter trailed off as he realized what happened. "You told him he was being transferred to the county jail. That he'd be put in with the general population."

Sanchez shrugged. "It usually gets them to talk."

"Usually? Usually?!" Peter couldn't believe his ears. He had  _promised_  Neal he'd make sure this wouldn't happen. No wonder Neal had ran.

But before he could tell the detective exactly what he thought of his interrogation skills, he was brought up short by Wilson. "Burke, where would he head from here?"

Peter looked at the map. In the past Neal had either run toward someone (Kate) or toward something (his next hit, his island paradise). This time he had neither. Where would Neal go?

*****

Neal had no idea where he was. All he knew was that he had to put as much distance between himself and the law-enforcement troops that were most probably turning over every rock looking for him.

He hadn't had long to plan his escape. He'd seen his chance and taken it. He'd already gotten his cuffs off by the time the cruiser hit traffic. He was off and running before the policemen up front realized what had happened.

He zigzagged across the lanes of traffic, cars swerving when their drivers saw him running by. He managed to grab hold of a passing truck and clamber inside. Luckily, it was pretty much empty.

He slipped out of the truck at the next truck stop and headed away from the road, following a trail along the river. He needed to think what to do now. First things first, he needed to change out of his prison clothes.

After twenty minutes of steady walking, the trail passed by a small farmhouse. Neal circled the place, keeping an eye out for the owners. An old, beaten pickup was standing out front, but he couldn't see anybody. The TV was blaring loudly inside. Out the back he noticed a few pieces of clothing waving on a  
line. He decided to risk it.

Sneaking up to the clothesline, he considered the options hanging in front of him. It wasn't Fifth Avenue, but Neal wasn't as choosy when on the run. He picked off the most usable looking t-shirt. It was a little big on him, but it would do. Beat running around with "Property of Mecklenburg County jail" on your back.

But before he could put it on, he heard a sound behind him. He turned around, only to find a kid holding a rifle, aimed straight at him.

Neal slowly raised his hands, showing he was not armed, and smiled reassuringly, but the gun didn't waver. "Aren't you a little young to be waving that thing around?" The kid wasn't even old enough to sprout a beard.

In response the kid dropped a bullet into the chamber and took a shot. Neal could have sworn he felt the thing whiz by him. "Okay, okay."

The kid loaded the gun again. "Joe!"

"Come on..."

"Joe! Take a look what I found!"

Another kid stuck his head through a window. "What?"

"Caught him sneaking around."

Neal turned around, hands still up in the air for the gun's benefit. The new kid looked a bit older, which meant, hopefully, that he was also more reasonable. "Look, I just got lost around here. If you can point me to-"

"Hey!" Joe interrupted him, pointing at the shirt still in Neal's hand. "That's my shirt!"

Great.

"Wait a second..." Joe scrunched up his face. "I know him."

"I don't think-" Neal started saying, but the younger man cut him off.

"He's from the TV."

"Okay," Neal smiled. He got that quite a lot. "I think you got me confused with somebody else."

Joe didn't seem to hear him. "They said he's a runaway."

Oh. That kind of TV. "You've really gotten me confused with somebody else."

Joe got up in Neal's face. "No. That's him. Bring him in, I'll show you."

The younger twerp pushed his shotgun into Neal's back.

Inside, the two spent the better part of half an hour and a whole ball of twine tying Neal to a chair. Neal had the nagging suspicion they were quite experienced.

The TV in front of him was tuned to a very loud shopping channel salesman, selling a knife that could dice and slice anything. Neal hoped they hadn't bought it yet.

"If he's a runner, there must be a reward for him," Joe was explaining to his younger brother, whose name turned out to be Bob.

"How much?" Bob queried.

"Oh... Could be a few thousand. Maybe more." He leaned to whisper to his brother, "Depends on what he's in for."

Bob nodded sagely, and tugged at Neal's bonds, making sure he was tied securely. "You got a bounty on your head?"

Neal shrugged.

"I'm going to buy a bike."

Bob laughed at that. "You're thinking small, boy. Snyder once caught himself a runner, he got himself a new racing car."

That earned Neal a look of appreciation from both kids. One he could live without.

"Oh, take a look." Bob pointed toward the TV.

Neal's face appeared on screen. The same old prison picture from his file. The announcer used his most serious voice as he reported that a fugitive was on the loose, possibly armed and dangerous.

What?!

The two boys, though, had more important matters on their minds. "Hey!" Bob yelled in disappointment. "There ain't no bounty!"

Joe nodded at that. The older brother, he screwed his face up in thought. "Maybe it's too early. If they don't find him in a few days, they'll put up a bounty."

Bob considered Neal for a short moment. "What will we do with him till then?"

"We could put him in the barn. Tied up, like. Nobody will find him."

Neal didn't like where this was going. Not one little bit. "Okay, guys?"

"What if Pop finds him there?"

Neal tried again. "Guys?"

"He'll take the bounty, and we won't get nothing then."

"Guys!" He finally got their attention. "How about we make a trade?"

Bob looked him up and down. He didn't look like somebody who had anything to offer. "What kind of trade?"

"You heard what they said on TV. I escaped from jail. You know why I was there?"

They both shook their heads.

"I robbed a bank. Got away with a cool million."

The two exchanged a look. Neal could see that he had them. Hook, line and sinker. He pushed on with his spiel. "I hid the money. The police have no idea where it is. If you let me go, we can split it. Fifty-fifty." He smiled brightly. "What do you say?"

Joe smiled at that. "You think we're stupid?"

"Yeah." Bob added. "We're not stupid."

"We let you go, we get it all."

"Yeah!"

Neal started arguing for a bit, but he didn't want to risk too much of an argument. After a few moment's of drawing it out, he gave in. "Fine," he said, resigned. "You let me go, you get the money."

Bob nodded at that. "Deal."

  
*****

It took less than five minutes for the kids to cut him loose.

A few minutes later he was sitting in the back seat of the pickup, Bob's gun still trained on him. "Where'd you hide it?"

"Uh... Down the river." That seemed like a safe bet.

Joe grunted and started the truck.

Neal directed them for a while, until he spotted a grove of trees. "There!"

Once they were all outside, Joe held out a spade.

Neal looked at it. "What?"

"Start digging."

Stifling a sigh, Neal took the spade. As he broke ground, he tried figuring out what he was going to do next. Obviously there was no treasure and no million dollars, but he was betting that the longer he dug, the more they'd be off their guard. Then he could make his move.

  
He bet wrong. Apparently he'd overdone it, and the promise of a million dollars kept the two quite awake and watchful. They both took positions, leaning against the trees, and they didn't take their eyes off him.

Neal dug, and dug, and dug. He snuck a look in the boys' direction every once in a while. This wasn't going to work. He was just tiring himself out.

Time for Plan B.

"There!" Neal shouted. "I think I got it."

"I didn't hear anything." Joe got up to his feet.

"The money's in a canvas bag. Hold on." Neal jumped into the hole he'd just dug.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing? Get out of there."

"I'm just..." Neal trailed off as both boys aimed their shotguns at him. "Right."

It was like taking candy from a baby.

Joe jumped in first, letting go of his gun as he grabbed the spade.

Bob followed, his hand reaching for the spade. "Gimme that!"

"I got it first!"

As the two started squabbling over the spade, Neal edged away. Slowly, slowly, and then he turned and gave it all he had. He had to get to that truck.

"He's getting away!" Bob shouted. They both scrambled out of the dug hole.

Joe grabbed his rifle and aimed, letting off a few shots. Bob quickly followed suit. Neal could feel the bullets as they whizzed past him. The kids behind him were closing in on him. He wasn't going to make it.

Changing directions, he gave one last boost and hurled himself off the bank and into the river.

The two arrived at a run a minute later, skidding to a stop by the bank. "Where is he?" Bob yelled.

Joe squinted. "I don't see him."

"Damn!" Bob gave the river a few more random shots.

Neal had dived into the river and then swum right back to the bank. He was laying low right below the two boys, hoping against hope that they would not look down. There were a few bushes that hid him from a cursory glance, but it wouldn't take them long to find him if they really looked.

"He's got to surface. Dead or alive." They watched the river expectantly.

"Maybe the gators got him?" Joe asked hopefully.

Excellent. Neal could see the headlines: "Yankee fugitive caught by local alligators". That was if anybody ever found what was left of him.

A few more 'pops' hit the river as the boys fired again, their frustration growing.

Maybe running wasn't the best idea.

  
*****

  
Neal waited until he heard the boys leave and then forced himself to stay in the muddy waters until he could no longer stand it. Carefully he climbed up, finally heaving himself onto the grassy bank.

He needed to get out of here before those two decided to come back, or before they called the police. He also needed clothing and money if he planned on getting anywhere.

His stomach growled, reminding him the last time he'd eaten was the previous evening. Food. As unappetizing as that jail meal had been, he wished he had more right now.

He made his way back to the road. First things first, he needed to get out of here. He took off his shirt and ran a quick hand through his hair to mess it even further. He was cold and muddy and wet. He looked the part.

He waited in the bushes by the side of the road until he heard a car coming then burst through, waving his hands wildly. The driver of the pickup screeched to a stop. "Hey! You okay?"

"My wife!" Neal stumbled out. "We were in the river, and she-" he gulped, turning to point back toward the river. "She- I can't see her."

The man jumped out of the truck, already running toward the riverbank.

Neal waited a short second before he hurried into the truck and took off. He didn't look in the mirror.

A few miles down the road, he stopped just after a gas station, easing the truck behind a few trees. He wiped off his prints, as much as he could, then took a look round the back, where he discovered work boots and a worn jacket. Neither were exactly his size, but they were good enough.

He made his way back to the gas station and washed himself in the little bathroom around the back, taking off as much mud as he could.

Back on the road, he started walking, thumbing for a ride whenever he heard a car coming.

Finally one slowed down. The driver lowered the passenger side window. "Where you going?" She was a youngish looking woman.

Neal smiled. "Anywhere you're going is fine."

"Hm." She looked him up and down. "Running away from something?"

Neal decided to go with the honest answer this time. He gave his most innocent of grins. "You could say so."

Surprisingly, she seemed to accept that. "Hop in."

Once he settled in, she shot him a calculating look. "Don't try anything. I've got a gun, and I know how to use it."

"I wouldn't have expected otherwise," Neal mumbled under his breath, and at the woman's questioning look, raised his hands in mock defeat. "I just need a ride."

Luckily, she didn't ask any more questions.

He settled back in his seat and drifted into an uneasy sleep. Next thing he knew, she was waking him up to say they'd reached the last stop. They were in Nashville.

A wallet he picked off a passing guy netted him a few dollars. A baseball hat left unattended found its way onto his head. It was scary how easy it was to slip into old habits.

He stopped by a public phone and put in a quarter.

Who should he call? Peter? Mozzie?

Peter still thought he was a criminal. Neal wasn't sure by now how wrong he was.

Mozzie wouldn't judge him and could find him a safe-house, a place to hide for a lifetime on the run.

He chewed on his lower lip, then making up his mind, started punching in the numbers.

 


	7. Chapter 6

 

\--Sunday, morning--

It was close to 24 hours since Neal had taken off, and still there was no sign of him.

Peter had joined the local police at their mobile post. There they were joined by the marshals and dozens of volunteers who'd converged on the site with jeeps and pickups, ready to comb the area for the fugitive. A big tent was put up, maps spread out, orders given.

Peter stirred his coffee absentmindedly as he considered the map in front of him, thinking of the mess Neal had gotten himself into. It therefore took him a moment to realize that the little TV on the side was not just reflecting his thoughts. Neal's face was plastered across the screen. Large, bold letters proclaiming him a wanted fugitive.

Five seconds later, Peter stomped over to where Sheriff Wilson was standing. "Are you kidding me?"

Wilson sighed. This Yankee Fed was starting to get on his nerves. "What's the problem now?"

"Caffrey is  _not_  armed, and he is  _not_  dangerous."

Maybe 'starting' was the wrong word. "He  _could_  be armed."

Peter snorted.

"And he abducted a man."

" _Allegedly_  abducted a man." Luckily Neal couldn't hear him. He'd never live that down.

"Look, Agent Burke. I realize you want to prove your guy's innocence, but right now I've got a fugitive on the loose and two deputies in the hospital-"

"With  _whiplash_!" Peter was exasperated.

"Nonetheless."

The two men stared at each other for a long, long time, neither willing to be the first one to budge or blink. The stalemate was broken when a deputy ran up. "Sheriff, we've got a sighting."

A local police department in Tennessee had received a report of a stolen truck. The description of the thief matched the BOLO put out by the marshals.

Peter started arguing that it could be anybody, but then the security camera footage arrived. The fugitive had stopped at a nearby gas station. He was much scruffier looking than when Peter had last seen him, but it was quite definitely Neal.

Wilson smiled at Peter. "Still think your guy is not dangerous?"

  
*****

Peter was saved from answering by a phone call. "Burke"

"Peter? It's me."

Peter raised a finger at the Sheriff, signifying that he had to take the call, then moved a few steps away, instinctively lowering his voice, not wanting to alert the officers around him that he was speaking to the fugitive they were after. "Where are you?"

Neal ignored the question. "Peter, I know you're upset, but-"

"You  _stole_  a  _truck_. What were you thinking?"

"I had no choice, Peter."

Peter ran a hand through his hair. He wasn't going to get far with this argument. "Neal, you need to turn yourself in. There's a manhunt for you, and when they find you..."

"I know, I know."

"Where are you?"

"I didn't do it."

"I know." Peter let that sink in before continuing, "But Neal, I can't promise anything. Just tell me where you are."

"I'm at a diner... In Nashville."

"Okay. Don't go anywhere. I'm coming to get you."

  
*****

Neal was sitting by one of the tables in the back. A baseball cap pulled low over his face. He watched Peter warily as the FBI agent made his way down the diner, past tables filled with happy, shiny people. Finally the agent stopped by his table. Filled with one not-so-shiny ex-con.

"Hey."

Neal looked tired, but his eyes still twinkled. "Peter, fancy meeting you here."

Peter sighed, one of those deep sighs he seemed to favor these last few days, and slid in across from Neal. "Where did you get that?" He nodded toward Neal's new outfit.

"I don't think you really want to know."

"You realize I've got to take you in."

Neal nodded. From his vantage point he could see the big parking lot outside. He'd seen the police cars taking position, knew the place was surrounded. The marshals, local PD, Feds. Nobody wanted to pass on the chance to catch a fugitive. "Yeah. Long as I'm in your custody."

"You are." Peter cleared his throat. "Neal, I know you didn't do it."

Neal's eyes met Peter's.

"We're going to figure this out, okay?"

Neal nodded.

Peter waited for Neal to stand up, then stood up us well. He held his cuffs out with an apologetic look. "They expect you to be arrested."

He was surprised when Neal just put out his hands. "Go ahead."

After Neal was cuffed, Peter started steering him toward the exit. "Oh, Peter?"

"Yeah?"

Neal made a vague gesture with his head toward the remains of his breakfast. "I'm broke, so... you know."

"Right." Peter fished for his wallet and dropped a bill on the table. "Let's go."

  
*****

Outside, he escorted Neal to his car under the watchful eyes of the cops present. He put Neal in the back, then hurried round the car to the driver's seat. But once Peter rounded the corner, he stopped the car by the curb and turned around to face Neal. "Here, give me your hands."

Neal leaned forward to have Peter uncuff him. It had been more than 24 hours since he'd escaped and he was exhausted, but there were far more important things on his mind. "So what now?"

Peter retrieved his cuffs. "Now we're going to get some breakfast." He'd been running on coffee for the past couple of days.

They found a little place down the street and soon they were being served. Peter went for the pancakes. Neal sufficed with a good, strong coffee.

After watching Peter wolf down his food for a while, Neal sighed. "You realize that's not what I meant, right?"

Peter glanced up, hesitating.

"I'm going back to jail, aren't I?"

"I spoke to the guy whose truck you stole," Peter answered after a moment's pause. "Managed to intercept him before he filled in all the forms. Really nice guy. He's not going to press charges."

"Really?"

"Well, I, uh, implied you were working undercover for the FBI."

"You did, huh?"

"And that we'll return everything you stole."

That didn't sound too bad.

"And compensate him for his trouble."

"Ah." Neal could see this trip was going to cost him way more than he'd planned for. But that wasn't the big ticket item against him. "What about the diamond thieves?"

"We still have no clue about them, but we know who the top man is: Frank Torello." Peter reached over to his bag and then handed Neal a thick file. "Got this over from the Memphis office."

Neal leafed through the file. "He's the guy behind all this?"

"According to Mozzie, he is."

This revelation caught Neal unawares. "Mozzie."

"Yep." Peter nodded. "He gave us the tip."

 _Mozzie?_ Neal frowned as he considered this new piece of information. How was Mozzie connected to this?

"As you can see," Peter continued, "he's had quite a few scrapes with the law, but until now the guys in Memphis couldn't pin anything on him. Somebody else always takes the rap. We've got eyes on him, but so far, nobody has shown up matching your description of the couple."

"Maybe they noticed the Feds."

Peter harrumphed at that. He had a different theory about how this had gone down. "In any case, we've got no thieves, no diamonds, and no case." He reached for his juice.

"So I'm going to jail for this."

Peter froze with the cup to his lips, then slowly put it down. "I'm going to figure this out, Neal. I promise you, you're not going to take the fall for a crime you didn't commit."

Neal trusted Peter to do everything he could. But he still wasn't satisfied with the response. There had to be an easier way than spending months in jail until the evidence showed up. Or not.

After a few more minutes of thoughtful silence, he snapped his fingers. "Send me in."

"To where?" Peter asked, confused.

"Torello. I'll go in for the swap and get him to confess."

"Need I remind you, you don't work for the FBI anymore."

"So? I'm a criminal, right? I can still be a criminal informant."

Peter shook his head. "It's too risky. This guy... you don't want to mess with him."

Neal held up a couple of surveillance photos. Torello looked like your everyday computer geek. "Doesn't look very imposing."

"Don't let his looks fool you." Peter pointed his fork at the photos. "He's suspected of having his finger in almost every crime pie in the city."

"So you're just going to let him slip through your fingers?"

Peter sighed.

  
*****

  
"I can get him to incriminate himself, Peter." Neal held up a page from the file. "It says he owns a bar downtown, and that's where he closes his deals."

"That's right. He's there, but the diamonds aren't."

"That's where I come in."

 

> _Neal sauntered into the bar. Peter had brought him the clothes he had worn when he was arrested - his touristy white suit - and the Memphis FBI got him_ _suited up with an original FBI watch/wire. He was quickly intercepted by one of Torello's henchmen. Under his jacket, Neal spotted a gun._
> 
> _"What do you want?"_
> 
> _"I need to speak to Mr. Torello about his diamonds."_
> 
>  

"Hold on a second." Peter raised his hand. "I'm telling you, it's too risky."

"You'll be right outside, right?" Neal grinned at Peter.

"He's not going to expect you. Why do you think he'll even talk to you?"

"I'll give him a good enough reason to."

Peter sighed yet again. He knew he was losing this argument. "You're not going in there alone."

 

 

> _Neal and Peter sauntered into the bar. They were quickly intercepted by one of Torello's henchmen, obviously armed._

> _"What do you want?"_
> 
> _Peter let Neal take lead. "I need to speak to Mr. Torello about his diamonds."_
> 
> _A quick pat-down later, they were escorted to where Torello was sitting. "They're here about the diamonds."_
> 
> _The man put down the paper, looking both men up and down. "Who are you?"_
> 
> _"Uh, we prefer working without any names." Neal took off his hat. "We're here about the diamonds."_
> 
> _Torello stared at him for a long moment before he burst out laughing. "What diamonds?"_
> 
>  

Peter shook his head. "It won't work. He's not going to admit he ordered the robbery."

"I think he will."

"Really, and how are you going to achieve that?"

"I'll just use the right type of convincing."

 

>   
>  _"Oh, come on." Uninvited, Neal pulled out a chair across from Torello. "The Standler Diamonds. The ones you asked my clients to steal?"_
> 
> _"Never heard of them."_
> 
> _"They want to renegotiate the deal."_
> 
> _The crime boss stopped laughing. "Your 'clients'? So you're... what? Their lawyer now? And who's this guy?" He gestured towards Peter, who remained_ _standing._
> 
> _"I'm the accountant," Peter answered dryly._
> 
> _Neal smiled politely, returning to the subject at hand. "My clients feel they've gotten the short end of the stick in this deal."_
> 
> _"You-" Torello lifted his finger, but then took a deep breath and put it down. "Tell your 'clients' that I'm not going to stand for blackmail."_
> 
> _"We didn't take into account that they might be held responsible for kidnapping."_
> 
> _"That's their problem. I contracted them for the diamonds, and I don't care what they had to do to get it."_
> 
> _Neal leaned forward, lowering his voice as he did so. "Those diamonds are worth at least fifteen mil, and we both know you're skimming the cream off_ _the top. How about you give us both another million and we'll close the deal."_
> 
> _"You think you can just stroll in here and make demands? Do you even know who I am?"_
> 
> _Neal wasn't about to back down. "I have the diamonds. You have until the end of the day to get us the money."_
> 
> _Torello leaned across the table and grabbed Neal by his shirt. "Tell Billy and his girlfriend that if they don't bring me my diamonds by the end of the_ _day, I'll track them down, kill them, and bury them somewhere nobody will ever find them. Then I'll kill you and your accountant friend over here. Got_ _that?"_
> 
> _Neal nodded. "Every last word."_

 

  
Neal leaned back. "And then you arrest him."

 

>   
>  _Peter reached over to grab Torello, shaking loose his hold on Neal. "Frank Torello, you're under arrest."_
> 
> _The man's bodyguards moved in, but just then the place was quickly swamped with agents and shouts of "FBI!" and "Weapons down!"_
> 
>  

"That simple, huh?"

"That simple."

  
*****

  
Peter made his way to Neal. The place had been mostly cleared and the mafia guys led away in handcuffs. "How you doing?"

Neal simply grinned. "I told you it was going to be simple."

"Come on, let's get out of here." Peter put his hand on Neal's back, steering him toward the exit. His phone rang and he pulled it out. "Burke."

It was Mozzie. "Any news, Suit?"

"We got Torello."

Mozzie couldn't care less. "What about Neal?"

"He's out of the fire, for now."

"Is that Mozzie? Give me that." Neal grabbed the phone. "Moz?"

"Mon frere!"  
  
"Don't _mon frere_  me. You  _followed_  me!" It had taken him a while to figure it all out, but there was no other explanation.

Mozzie didn't even bother denying it. "Aren't you glad I did?"

Neal couldn't find a good response to that one. "Where are you now?"

"New Orleans."

"What are you doing there?"

"It's a long story. Not one to be told on Big Brother's phone. Just tell the Suit that-"

"Give me that." Peter grabbed the phone back. " _Where_  are you, Mozzie?"

"I can't say."

"And where are the diamonds?"

"What diamonds?"

"Oh, no, no, no. I'm not falling for that."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"I'm not stupid, Mozzie. There's only one way you could have learned about Torello."

"Which is?" Mozzie couldn't resist asking.

"You know who stole the diamonds, and-"

"That's conjecture, Suit."

"- and you got me to take down Torello, to take him off their backs."

"Still conjecture."

"Don't think I'm done with you. When I get back to New York-"

The phone  _beeped_  as it disconnected on the other end. "Gah!" Peter stuffed it back in his jacket pocket. "He has those diamonds, I  _know_ it."

Neal shrugged. "You've got Torello. That's a win, right?"

"Don't you want to catch the thieves who let you take the fall?" Peter glanced at Neal. "You could have been rotting in jail for the next ten years for them."

But he wasn't. Neal knew he was lucky. The words were on his lips, but instead he just smiled at Peter. "They're criminals, right? They'll mess up some time."

That seemed to pacify Peter. "Yes, they will. And when they do..."

"You'll get them," Neal supplied.

"Damn right I will."

"Look, Peter." Neal cleared his throat. "I'm sorry I ruined your weekend."

"Nonsense." Peter shook that off.

"I'm sure this wasn't the romantic weekend you had planned."

That earned him another glance from Peter. "I wasn't about to let you go down for a crime you didn't commit."

"And if I were guilty?"

"You weren't." Peter stated firmly, clearly not eager to argue the point. He hadn't been sure Neal was truly innocent. "So, you didn't get around to your weekend plans, either, I understand."

"Yeah, well... Plans don't always work out." Neal looked away. With everything going on, he had completely forgotten about the conference. He hadn't shown up or notified them he wasn't able to make it. What a way to make a first impression.

"I called them up. The organizers of this conference of yours."

That drew Neal's attention back to Peter. "What conference?"

"Don't play dumb, Neal. I know all about it."

"Really?"

"Yep, Mozzie was very talkative when he thought you were heading for jail."

" _Mozzie_  told you?"

Peter wasn't about to let Neal derail him. "I called them up, Neal. Spoke with a guy named Sandrov who said he'll push your speech back to the final day. We can still make it."

"We?"

"Yeah, I'll drive you down. I can catch a plane back from Miami."

"I-" Neal wasn't sure what to say. "Thanks."

"What are friends for?" Peter glanced at him, as if to get assurance. "Right?"

Neal had one friend who had spent the weekend tailing him, the other ready to arrest him. One wanted him to go straight, the other to get back into the criminal life. It could get confusing sometimes, but there was one thing Neal knew for sure: he'd never trade them for any other. He smiled at Peter.  
"Right."

"Come on." Peter smiled back. "We've got a conference to catch."  
  
THE END


End file.
